


the cleanup crew

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e11 Ted, Gen, some light jenny/giles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 21:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15228066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: Buffy is standing there, looking at Ted on the floor. She is standing there looking at Ted on the floor and there is this exhausted ringing in her ears, because her mom is going to wake up and her mom is going to freak out about Buffy killing Ted again, just like her mom couldn’t look at her while they were driving to the police station.Buffy looks at Ted on the floor and then she goes over and calls Giles. It goes to voicemail.





	the cleanup crew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [benfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/benfic/gifts).



> for my dear friend who inspires me all the damn time & planted this idea in my brain when they started talking about the aftermath of ted.

Buffy is standing there, looking at Ted on the floor. She is standing there looking at Ted on the floor and there is this exhausted ringing in her ears, because her mom is going to wake up and her mom is going to freak out about Buffy killing Ted again, just like her mom couldn’t look at her while they were driving to the police station.

Buffy looks at Ted on the floor and then she goes over and calls Giles. It goes to voicemail.

* * *

 

Jenny has to step out of the hospital while the nurses are looking Rupert over. She knows that the right thing to do would be to stay with him, especially after she made that quip about “wooing a girl back” that made his face light up and his eyes shine, but she still feels half Jenny and half _something else_ and she doesn’t want to tell Rupert about that. He would get all soft, all gentle, hold her and stroke her hair. It scares her how much she wants that.

Her pager goes off. It’s from Buffy. This strikes Jenny as a little odd until it occurs to her that Rupert, who is in the hospital, probably isn’t picking up his home phone, and whatever’s going on probably needs adult attention.

“Fuck,” she says softly. Then she goes back inside.

* * *

 

Buffy picks up her mom with Slayer strength and carries her up to bed, hoping that maybe her mom will think the whole thing was a bad dream. Her mom doesn’t stir. Buffy tries not to think about how hard Ted might have hit her and focuses instead on the physical act of tucking her mom in.

She’s halfway down the stairs when she hears movement in the kitchen.

Buffy freezes, a mixture of defensive and frightened, and a terrible, terrible voice in her head starts saying things like _robots might not go down with just one blow to the head._

“Good  _god,_ ” comes Giles’s voice. He sounds a little dazed. “It’s a robot.”

“Sit down, Rupert,” Buffy hears Ms. Calendar say. Ms. Calendar sounds like she’s had almost as tough a night as Buffy. “Is Buffy—is she here?”

“A robot that looks like Ted!” Giles really sounds off. “Jenny, you were right, entirely right, about the marvels of technology—”

Buffy goes the rest of the way down the stairs and sticks her head into the kitchen. Giles, who definitely isn’t looking his best, is leaning against the counter and alternating between looking at the robot and gazing, moony-eyed, at Ms. Calendar. Ms. Calendar, who is somehow managing to look even worse, is just staring at the robot with this exhausted look on her face that Buffy can really relate to.

“Hi,” says Buffy, timid. She’s half-hoping that the adults will handle this one.

“Rupert’s on a lot of painkillers because I shot him with a crossbow by accident,” says Ms. Calendar without looking away from the robot.

So much for the adults handling _anything_. “Is he okay?” Buffy asks.

“Peachy keen,” says Giles happily, and sits down on the floor in a very undignified and un-Giles-like manner.

Ms. Calendar makes a strangled noise that, on anyone but Ms. Calendar, might have sounded like a sob. Then she buries her face in her hands.

Buffy steps up and takes another look at the robot. It looks like Ted with his face half off, and it looks like he’s dead, and it makes her feel sick. If Buffy’s mom were here, she wouldn’t be able to look Buffy in the eye.

“Not every guy I kill by accident is going to end up being a robot, is he?” says Buffy dismally. “What happens if I whale on my mom’s next boyfriend and he’s _not_ —”

Ms. Calendar raises her hands from her face and swallows, hard. Then she says, “If he puts his hands on you or your mom, Buffy, just—just kill him.”

This is not what Buffy was expecting from Ms. Calendar. Honestly, Buffy’s never really _liked_ Ms. Calendar. It’s nothing personal, just that Ms. Calendar only really hangs around to kiss Giles and help out with the computer portion of research, and it’s hard to get a read on a person you barely get the chance to talk to (especially with your Watcher taking up all her time). “What makes you think he put his hands on me?” says Buffy, careful, evasive.

“That question,” says Ms. Calendar.

This is a good point.

“But he was a robot,” says Buffy, and moves a little closer to Ms. Calendar. “Doesn’t that—I mean, shouldn’t that—he’s _wired_ to be awful and evil and, and kid-punchy.”

Ms. Calendar shrugs a little. Her mouth is set in a thin line as she looks at the robot. “You know, I’ve been a teacher for almost ten years,” she says. “Closing in on my first decade. I’ve seen a couple of kids who very clearly come from abusive homes, and let me tell you, I would like nothing better than to charge in like an avenging angel and kill the people who were hurting them.”

“My job is to kill the monsters,” says Buffy. “My mom loved this one.”

Ms. Calendar looks at Buffy askance, and Buffy is getting the uncomfortable sense that Ms. Calendar is picking up a lot more than she’s letting on. “Did you try and tell your mom he hit you?”

Buffy shakes her head.

Ms. Calendar’s face softens. “Oh, Buffy,” she says, very softly, and in a caring-adult kind of way that makes Buffy’s chest ache. Sort of the way she feels when Giles makes her a cup of tea in the morning and tells her it’s an old family recipe, or when she’s watching _I Love Lucy_ with her mom and no one’s said anything about Buffy getting kicked out of school in LA.

Giles, incidentally, is looking at Buffy with a suddenly alert expression. Even on painkillers, he’s listening. “You should have told _me,_ ” he says quietly. “I would have done something.”

“I didn’t—” Buffy swallows. “He said he was gonna hit me and I told my mom,” she said. “And I know everyone was all drugged out on the cookies he made or whatever, but—she just didn’t want to listen. She said I should, I should stop making things up like that.”

Ms. Calendar and Giles exchange this truly furious look, one that makes Buffy feel nervous and ashamed; her mom’s a good mom, really. She tries. She’s a working mom. She works hard and she doesn’t know Buffy’s the Slayer—all she knows is Buffy’s a dumb blonde cheerleader who doesn’t turn her homework in on time and gets kicked out of school for burning down the gym. Buffy doesn’t want to make things any harder for her mom than they need to be.

Giles tries to stand up, then groans, falling back against the counter. Ms. Calendar’s face softens _immediately_ and she takes two steps towards him, grasping his elbows and gently pulling him to his feet. They don’t break eye contact for a moment, and then Ms. Calendar lets her hands drop and steps back.

Giles, looking at Ms. Calendar, swallows, then directs his attention back to Buffy. Buffy kind of feels bad for him; he must be on emotional overload right now even _without_ the painkillers making him all loopy. “Painkillers are wearing off, I think,” he says.

 _Yikes._ Buffy feels _really_ bad for him now. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“You should—” Ms. Calendar rummages in her purse and pulls out a pill bottle.

“Jenny, I’d really rather be alert for this,” says Giles, who’s looking at Buffy with an exhausted sadness.

“Jesus, Rupert, just _take the goddamn painkillers,_ ” snaps Ms. Calendar, shoving the pill bottle at him. “I need to know you can take care of yourself when I’m not around!”

“Give me a moment—”

They’re reminding Buffy a little of her parents in that moment. She doesn’t like it. Looking down at the floor, she notices that Ted’s hand is a few inches from her ankle, and she reacts on instinct, stomping down on it as hard as she can.

The _crunch_ of metal and plastic seems to resonate through the small kitchen for a longer time than it actually does, joining the still-present ringing in Buffy’s ears. Giles and Ms. Calendar stop arguing, both of them, eyes wide as they stare at Buffy, and somehow this is what makes her finally, completely burst into tears.

Giles hangs back—probably some dumb Watcher nervousness about getting too close, emotionally speaking. Ms. Calendar, however, has no such qualms, and takes two clumsy steps towards Buffy, pulling her into an awkward hug. Ms. Calendar is kind of an awful hugger—all elbows and angles—but the fact that she’s trying is somehow the most comforting thing that’s happened to Buffy all night. Buffy is ugly-crying like a little kid by this point.

Ms. Calendar stumbles a little and steps on the robot again, though her light tread doesn’t do too much to it. She pulls back to look at Buffy, who’s reached that half-hysterical point of crying where it’s almost involuntary, and smooths down her hair. “Okay,” she says, very softly. “Let’s go.”

“We’re going somewhere?” Giles asks.

“Yes,” says Ms. Calendar, and tries to let go of Buffy, but—but Buffy can’t let go. Buffy can’t let go, because when Buffy lets go, Buffy’s back to being the Vampire Slayer and not a teenage girl. She doesn’t know why she’s linked someone holding her to her status as the Vampire Slayer, but the distinction is there and she can’t think otherwise. “Buffy—”

“My mom’s gonna wake up and see the robot downstairs and she’s gonna think I killed him again I killed him _again,_ ” Buffy sobs. “Again and again and again—”

“Buffy,” said Ms. Calendar. She sounds like she’s crying a little too.

This is when Giles comes in. Very, very gently, he untangles Buffy from Ms. Calendar, then gathers Buffy into his arms and holds her. She can feel that he’s shaking a little, probably from the leftover pain that comes from being shot with a crossbow or something, but he still keeps on holding her. He’s never let her this close before, and it’s startling enough to comfort Buffy. She’s still making little hiccup-sob sounds, but they’re slowing.

Ms. Calendar falls against the counter, now in Buffy’s line of vision, and sniffles, scrubbing the sleeve of her leather jacket across her face. Her eyes are red.

“He’s still on the floor,” Buffy mumbles.

“We’ll get it off the floor,” says Giles. For some reason, it makes Buffy feel better to hear Ted called an _it_ instead of a person. “And—Buffy, you’re right about these sorts of things almost all of the time. It isn’t fair that the adults in your life chalk it up to teenage hysteria, and I believe I myself need to get better at trusting you when you say these things aren’t right or natural.”

Buffy is too tired to listen to anything he’s saying. She closes her eyes.

* * *

 

Buffy finds herself lying on the couch while Giles takes more painkillers and Ms. Calendar deals with the robot. She’s expecting Ms. Calendar to handle the robot with care, but instead there’s this loud, angry shriek from the kitchen and the sound of things smashing.

“She’s working out her issues,” says Giles wisely.

“She has issues?” says Buffy, surprised.

“Well, yes,” says Giles. “Did you expect her to just bounce back after Eyghon?”

Buffy hasn’t been possessed, ever. Xander (the one time he talked about it) said it’s not as cut-and-dry as there being a _thing_ in your head that’s got control—it’s more like all of a sudden there’s this extra part of you that you didn’t know existed, and you don’t know where you end and the new thing begins. But the hyena in Xander’s head wasn’t killing him slowly, and suddenly Buffy’s thinking about what it must have been like for Ms. Calendar to feel her control over herself slipping away. She imagines what it’d be like to know she could have killed Angel.

“Is she going to be okay?” she asks Giles.

“I hope so,” says Giles, his words softer and slower. “I love her.”

Buffy feels a happy-sad twist in her chest at that. She likes the thought of Giles loving someone, but she gets the sense that Ms. Calendar isn’t anywhere near ready to love him back. “Well,” she says, trying to bring a moment of levity to the situation, “as long as she’s not a creepy abusive robot, I’d say go for it.”

Ms. Calendar comes back in, lugging a giant trash bag that makes clattering sounds as it drags on the floor. Buffy feels a little sick. “I’m going to disassemble it,” she says, “maybe call Willow in to help me—we want it looking less like a body and more like a bunch of robot parts. And the police think Ted came back to life, so they’re not investigating Buffy anymore, right?” 

“I suppose so,” says Giles, looking up at Ms. Calendar with unfocused eyes.

“What do we tell my mom?” Buffy asks, not liking the question.

Ms. Calendar considers, then says, “Tell her that Ted got violent, you called the police, and no one’s seen him since then. Actually—you know what? We can say that Rupert and I came by to drop off some stuff Buffy left at the library, and we found you and Joyce and called the police. That works.” She hesitated, looking at Ted, then says, “I’m gonna try and squeeze this into my car,” and continues to drag the bag outside.

Buffy settles back into the couch. “So you guys are gonna take care of it?” she says, soft and exhausted.

And it’s a mark of how much Giles cares about her, she thinks, that even through the painkillers he’s coherent enough to look at her and say, “Yes.”

* * *

 

The police show up. They find Buffy’s mom bruised and asleep and Buffy forlorn, and Buffy’s half-asleep on the couch but she thinks she hears Ms. Calendar yelling at the officers— _how dare you frighten a child like that, putting her through the wringer right after a traumatic incident, give her some time to take a fucking breath, for god’s sake—_ and she knows Giles is all the way asleep next to her, and it makes her feel incredibly safe. She closes her eyes and drifts off all the way.

When she wakes up, her mom is talking to someone in a high, anxious tone of voice. “You have to understand,” she’s saying, “it’s—difficult, you see, to tell when Buffy’s just—she has a tendency to bend the truth a little. At that age, children can’t help but be a little self-centered—I thought it was just jealousy, I’m ashamed to say. I completely regret it.”

“Of course,” says Giles stiffly. He doesn’t sound like he believes her all that much.

“Is your friend still here?”

“Jenny’s getting us all breakfast,” says Giles. “I expect you and Buffy have both been through quite an ordeal with this fellow.”

Buffy opens her eyes all the way and sits up on the couch, at which point she’s all but smothered by hugs and kisses from her mother. Her mother is an excellent hugger, soft and warm and cozy, and it feels weird to miss the way it felt when Ms. Calendar hugged her last night. In the strangest way, something about that felt a little more honest.

* * *

 

Giles and Ms. Calendar leave after breakfast, but Buffy catches sight of them through the living room window. Giles is holding Ms. Calendar’s hands in his and they’re talking, Ms. Calendar with a soft blush on her face and Giles looking sweetly shy.

“Buffy,” her mom calls. “Buffy, are you going to get ready for school?”

Giles and Ms. Calendar lean in to kiss at the exact same time, and collide in a way that looks a little off-center. But Ms. Calendar’s smiling, and Giles looks happy too—maybe off-center is okay, sometimes, Buffy thinks. Maybe she’ll be okay if she’s got people who see her as _Buffy,_ not a daughter or a Slayer or some puzzle piece that’s important only because she fits into _their_ life.

She considers her options, then gets up and goes outside, pretending not to notice how Giles and Ms. Calendar spring apart as she opens the front door. “Hey,” she says a little awkwardly. “Um, thanks. For sticking around last night.”

“Of course,” says Giles softly. Ms. Calendar, whose lipstick is a little smudged, smiles a little and nods in agreement.

“And—”

“Yeah?” prompts Ms. Calendar.

“If something’s really wrong,” says Buffy, “can I tell you guys? Will you take care of it?” There’s a lot that goes unsaid in that question.

Ms. Calendar looks back at the house and her mouth twists, like she thinks this is a question that she and Giles shouldn’t be the ones answering. She’s probably right, but Buffy doesn’t really want to think about that right now.

Giles looks at Ms. Calendar, then at Buffy, then says, “We will.” There’s a lot that goes unsaid in the _we,_ too, stuff that makes Ms. Calendar’s blush deepen and her hand reach sneakily out to take Giles’s.

“Okay,” says Buffy, not wanting to go back inside. “Thanks.”

“Buffy?” her mom calls again.

Before she can chicken out, Buffy moves forward, hugging first Ms. Calendar and then Giles. She takes a few extra seconds to hug Giles, trying to catalogue exactly what he smells like—libraries, she thinks, and home, though the two things aren’t mutually exclusive so much anymore.


End file.
